The Lost Dragon | Game of Thrones

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Violet's fingers gripped the unsightly iron chair, watching as her people scattered like rats. The air was colder, her breath misting out into tiny icicles before falling into her lap and burning away. She didn't think this would be her first official duty as Queen, but theres no time like the present to fight an army of dead men. She whistled loudly, one even Rhael heard outside causing him to loudly land on the roof, splatters of dirt falling onto her head.

Everyone stopped, and turned to their Queen.

"If any of you have Valyrian steel, now's the time to grab it from your little hiding holes." She told them. Standing as strongly as she could, hurrying to the middle of the room. "Fire kills them. Dragonglass, and Valyrian Steel. And know that if you die, you will rise again to kill those you once thought as friends."

She didn't think being anything but honest would get her point across to them. It might be blunt, but that honesty might help save their lives.

"Commander Armitage, have the city gates sealed. Davos I want you to take as many men as you can and get the vulnerable down into the crypts." She ordered her men, and they obeyed instantly. "I need anyone who is willing to fight to be on the city walls, the wights can climb and they will overrun this city before we can blink an eye."

Many of the noble men paused, taking in their new Queens first order with hesitant eyes. Tormund growled, his angry voice echoing along the walls. Robin Arryn broke first and ordered his men outside, he followed along with a squeak in his voice.

"For fucks sake, father! Do you want to die?" Sam cried out, holding Gilly close to him. Randyll Tarly frowned deeper if that was possible, before turning to the younger man beside him.

"Dickon, take our men and ready the horses. We're heading back to Horn Hill." He grumbled, shoving past many civilians in his journey to the open doors.

"We can't just leave, Father." Dickon replied, his eyes looking between Randyll and Sam.

"You can't leave anyway. My men are sealing the city, so you either stay and fight or wait it out in the crypts with the women and children." Violet told him, sliding the Valyrian steel sword off her back and into her eager hands. "Just know, I will fight for you even if you won't fight for me."

Randyll gave one last huff before resolving and having Dickon take their men to the city walls instead. He glared to his Queen before following along behind them.

Violet turned to the Stark daughters with worried eyes, she would die if anything happened to either of them again. They had been through too much, lost too much to be taken out this way.

"You both need to get into the crypts with the others." Violet told them. Arya unsurprisingly was instantly ready to stay.

"I'm not leaving. You know I can fight them." Arya exclaimed.

"I know you can." Violet cupped the side of Arya's face and looked deep into her eyes that looked so much like Ned's. "You need to go with Sansa and protect her. I need you to look after the ones who can't fight for themselves."

Arya looked to see her terrified older sister and sighed, hanging her head in defeat. Violet smiled, kissing both girls on the head, Jon doing the same before they watched them run out the door.

"What's your plan?" Asked Jon, his sword dangling at his side.

"How are we going to kill them all?" Oberyn asked.

Violet looked to the back of the room, where Jaime was quietly trying to converse with Bran. Ban stared on as he always did, his eyes seeing everything and nothing at all.

"We don't need to kill all of them. Only one."

~

Rhael screeched loudly, his voice carrying on for miles. To the ignorant eye it would like like Violet was fleeing, but that was never her strategy. She feld Winterfell to save her people, and buy them some time. Now she would do the same, and hope those defenses she left behind would last.

Bran gripped her side tightly, the wind blowing through his long hair while his brother protected him from behind. Jon was the only one to argue against this plan, but would never let Violet go into battle by herself. Neither would Oberyn or Tormund, the pair hanging on with their life behind him.

The army of the dead was larger than she could have anticipated, and she watched with worried eyes as they began their attack on the city walls. But Bran was why they were there, surely leading Bran away would work a second time.

With a low whistle, Rhael began his attack on the walkers below them. They burned through so many of them in the hopes of helping the city but none of them could see the Night King anywhere on the ground. She took out as many as she could, giving them a fighting chance before they made their way out of Kings Landing.

They flew for what felt like hours, deep into the Reach and away from cities and villages. She could no longer smell the pungent scent of burning bones, could no longer hear the men screaming orders or arrows flying through the air.

She felt terrible leaving the city on it's own, but this was the only way to end it all for good.

Now they just had to hope the Night King was stupid enough to fall for their plan in his desperation to kill Bran.